


Stolen

by jenna_thorn



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>to the prompt of "stolen" at the Dreamwidth community Peopleofthedas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen

**Act I**

Hawke rounded the corner, head down, dragging Merrill by one wrist to get her _away_ from the babbling man in the corner, and threw herself into the chair at Varric’s table. “I got your note.”

“Apparently. Hey Merrill.”

“We had dinner! It wasn’t anything recognizable, though, sort of mud colored, with bits. Kind of spicy. And with a new kind of bread, but not proper bread. It was poufy, fluffy.” She waved her hands to illustrate, jarring the table, and Hawke grabbed at the bottle as it tipped.

“I’m introducing her to the local cuisine.”

“Rat stew and day old bread.”

“It was today’s bread and I know better than to ask what the meat is.”

“You Hightowner, you. Thought you were saving cash, partner-to-be.”

“I’m allowed to eat.”

“And feed strays.”

“And feed new and valued companions,” she answered. Merrill’s face lit up like a beacon fire and Varric rolled his eyes, but he grinned. “So, what’s the news? And does it carry the promise of work?” She took the mug he handed her. She offered it to Merrill, who wrinkled her nose, so she kept it.

“Thought you might like to know that there’s a ship missing,” Varric said.

“Salvaging shipwrecks would be new,” she said with a dubious tone. “But how profitable…?”

“Not cargo, people… .” He raised a hand to head off her retort. “No, not slaves. Passengers, possibly problematic ones.”

She snorted into the cheap ale. “Because the heir to Starkhaven isn’t enough of a pain in my ass. Is this ship carrying the Fereldan king?”

“No, a bunch of mages.” He toyed with the shiny bit of metal in his hands. “You don’t know who’s king of your country?”

“I’ve been here more than a year, Varric. I know who’s viscount. Is that… that’s the rune I … Varric, that was locked in my desk!”

“You want it?” He flipped it in the air and Merrill grabbed it.

“I’d rather know when you were in my house.”

He looked around. “You’re in _my_ house right now.”

“You live in a pub, Varric.”

“You live with your uncle.”

“Point.” She shrugged. “Bianca can take a rune, can’t she? We should drop by Worthy’s.”

“Bartram has someone better. Merrill, hand the shiny over.”

“Nah, Merrill, you keep it until tomorrow. We’ll go see Varric’s guy then. Sit tight. I’ll get the next round.”

“Did you answer her question?” Merill asked. “If you did, I missed it, but that’s entirely possible, really. There’s so much to see that sometimes I miss obvious things because I’m too busy looking at the things that aren’t important. Or at least they aren’t important to other people. I suppose everything is important to someone, at some point. Right?”

“Yeah, kid, you got it.”

 

 **Act II**

“Oh for the Maker’s sake, Dog, _again_?” He wagged his tail and she shook her finger at him. “No, not a good dog, _bad_ dog; now I’ve got to put shoes on and return it.” He dropped his shoulders to the floor and tipped his head sideways. “Don’t play puppy cute with me, you know full well what you were doing and you, serrah, are in trouble. No pats for you, you thief.”

“Hey now. Don’t go slandering honest rogues.” Varric leaned on the railing at the top of the stairs, smirking. She let the knife in her hand slide back into the sheath at her back. “Besides, he didn’t steal it, right? Just borrowed it after the game.”

“My dog does not play cards with you and your friends, and he didn’t _borrow_ your pack. He is a dog.”

“He is a card shark, Hawke, as you’d know if you joined us.”

“He is a clever dog, but still a dog. That is a particularly interesting smelling pack.” She dropped to the floor and patted her lap. Dog took an eager step forward, then stopped at her upraised finger. He whuffled, tossed the pack toward Varric, then laid his head and as much of his shoulders as he could pretend would fit over her legs.

“He’s a warrior the like of which few two-legs can beat.”

“He's a puppy dog who needs his ears rubbed,” she countered while doing so. “But while you’re here, pull up a chair. I’ve got wine, um, somewhere.”

“I know where your wine is, where your good glasses are, where you keep your coin, and I’m stealing your chair.”

“Might as well,” she grunted as Dog leaned into her scratching enough to knock her off-balance. “It’s not like I’m using it. But I wanted to talk to you about Bertram’s house. I asked Aveline to check reports and I think you’re right.”

“Hawke! I’m surprised at you. You should know by now that I’m always right. About everything.”

“Silly me. It’s private property, so the guards who don’t think it’s haunted are calling it simple vandalism, but Aveline’s promised she’ll not notice if we let her know when we’re going in.”

Varric smiled as he pulled the cork from the wine bottle. “So we’re alerting the guard captain when we break into the house. I knew you’d be a bad influence on me when we met.”

“I’m a very good influence. On most everyone.” She paused and shook her head. Varric leaned back, waiting for her to mention the other part of everyone, to bring Anders into the room by calling his name, like some emotionally fraught summoning. “But apparently _not_ on my card shark and thief of a dog.”

“To Dog,” Varric said as he handed down a filled glass to her. “And other thieves.”

 **Act III**

Hawke stepped away from the group, to the shadowed edge of the farthest wall, to catch her breath, collect her thoughts. Someone was weeping in the corner, quietly but constantly. _Let it be someone else’s problem. Please just let someone, anyone, deal with it._ She glanced up when the weeping ceased and saw Bethany leaning over someone she didn’t recognize.

Varric appraoched her slowly and carefully, in half steps, the way he moved around traps, which didn’t make any sense, since the doors were still barred. The threat was out there, gathering in ranks in the Gallows, fluttering as ash drifting from the sky, and lying in a pool of his own blood in the courtyard. She glanced at her sleeve. By force of habit, she’d cleaned her blade on her sleeve before resheathing it, and her off hand arm was smeared with Ander’s blood. Varric handed her a wet cloth, and he drank once from his open canteen before offering it to her. “What’ll be left, Varric? When this day is over? The chantry has been blown to the Maker’s feet; Meredith’s called the Rite. We’re going out there to kill our neighbors and fight in the street of the city.” She took the canteen. “Can you tell me that? What are we going to have tomorrow morning?”

“I can,” he said, and she choked as she swallowed. She could blame the whiskey he laced his water with, but she wouldn’t. She’d grown used to it. He said again, “I can tell you. We’ll have everything we can take. Might be death, might be peace, might be the Knight Commander’s head. All depends on what you’re reaching for.”

She capped and handed back the canteen. “I guess it’s time to do that, then.” And she knew, without looking, that he followed her.

 **Epilogue**

The guards escorted him much more politely back to the door, but he rubbed at his wrists anyway, just to watch them flinch. They stomped and rattled back into the building and he slipped into an alley, through an abandoned building, across three roofs and through an occupied building before he slowed and dropped to the street level again. He paused to let the shadow he’d picked up catch her breath.

“Awwwww, Hawke, did you miss me?”

“I was deciding whether to charge the doors on my own or spend a few hours finding people to come in with me.”

“You? Cautious? You’re getting old.”

“I was getting worried,” Hawke answered.

“Worried I’d been stolen away by the Seeker? I’ll admit, that Penderghast’s got a nice rack, but …” he trailed off as she snorted.

“Oh, good, I’m so glad you were focused on the task at hand.”

“The way she kept leaning over me, her tits damn near _were_ at hand. Unfortunately, once they took the shackles off, she kept her distance.”

“Smart woman.”

“I sure hope so, given what she’s trying to do. I got her pointed right, though.”

“Worth it?”

“Being tossed about, intimidated, and forced to tell your story to a skeptical audience? Hawke, that’s a typical evening for me, you know that.”

“Tell me she bought you beer, at least.”

“Dammit, you’re right. I was robbed!” He spun on his heel.

She grabbed the back of his coat, laughing. “Right, she can make it up to you later. I suspect we’ll be seeing her again eventually.”

“Damn straight. She owes me, now.”


End file.
